Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney
by FanOfGames16
Summary: Apollo Justice claims the defense's bench! Join the rookie attorney as he is thrown into seemingly simple murder cases that will reveal their own dark secrets, leading back to an event that took place seven years in the past. With only himself, a bracelet, and a magical assistant, it's time for him to perceive the truth! Capcom owns the Ace Attorney series. Novelization of game.
1. Chapter 1

"One Card."

"Two Cards." The two poker players looked at their cards, confident of their hands. "Showdown time." The two revealed their cards. "...You lose." The man angrily grabbed the bottle by the neck, and swung it.

"Eeeeeekkkkk!"

SMACK!

Cards were scattered, and a man lied in his chair, not moving.

RING! RING! RING!

Beep...

"...I seem to be in a bit of trouble." The person on the other line spoke. "Something like that." A question was raised. "...Dead. Someone hit him. Hard." Another question. "Me? Please. The cops should be here any minute." Silence filled the air. "I'm in your hands...Should it come to that." He hung up.

* * *

**April 20, 9:37 AM**

**District Court**

**Defendant Lobby No. 3**

I am nervous. Extremely nervous right now. The trial didn't even start yet, and I'm already sweating buckets that could fill the ocean if it dried up! I stare at the couch, and I am tempted to lie down and hope the trial resolves itself. "Ah, good morning." There goes that thought. I turn around to face my superior and mentor, Kristoph Gavin, arms crossed and looking confident as usual.

"G-Good morning, sir!" Did I mention that I was nervous?

"Justice, you look very tense. Wound up tight, if I say so," Kristoph tells me with a grin on his face.

"W-Wound up, sir? No! The opposite. I'm loose, s-sir! I'm fine!" I deny, my voice straining as I did. That grin is still present on Mr. Gavin's face. I guess I failed at defending myself.

...That statement just now made me less confident. "That screeching noise... Is it your voice again? Well, I wouldn't expect it to be any different..." So I was training my 'Chords of Steel,' sue me. Wait... "Your first trial, and it's a homicide. I guess 'Justice' doesn't start small, eh?"

Confidence level, dropping below fifty! Falling to forty! "I-I'm fine! I woke up early at 5' in the morning to do my 'Chords of Steel' voice workout! I'm fine!" My voice strained on that last part, and I was apparently noisy because Mr. Gavin held his hand to his ear. Crap! My throat hurts and now I made my mentor deaf. What else could go- wait! I shouldn't say that. Something will happen.

After Mr. Gavin's recovery, he nodded in amusement. "Ah, I was right. I did detect a certain rasping quality to your speech." My response? A cough. Darn it, I overdid it again! Mr. Gavin is still amused as he closed his eyes and shakes his head, his right hand raised doing so. I know that I am lower than in position, but that gesture made me feel even lower. He began to remind me, "Remember Justice, your client today is a good friend of mine. I wouldn't want to disappoint him. I hope that you get my drift, Mr. Justice."

I hastily respond, "Drift gotten, sir! I-I'm all over that drift!" I may have looked stupid to him, and the bailiff standing by the courtroom door. I hope my client didn't hear me just now.

"Also, as it so happens," Mr. Gavin continues after an awkward second of silence. "We dined together the night of the murder. We can't let this case fall through." That grin returned.

"Yes. Yes! I'm fine, sir!" I say excitedly with my fist raised. Mr. Gavin stares at me for a second.

"One more thing. Don't say you're fine quite so much. People might take you the wrong way," He advises. I deflated. But I really AM fine...I swallowed. Maybe he's right. "I'll take my leave. I must prepare our case. I'll leave you and your client to do introductions." Mr. Gavin then left.

My name is Apollo Justice. Strange name, but I like the ring to it. If it isn't clear enough for you, I am a defense attorney. A fresh one at that, and today is my very first trial. N-Not that I'm worried or anything! I may be nervous, and sweat may be crawling over my palms, but I am not worried! The defendant has been accused of... murder. Since he is friends with the client, Mr. Gavin, of course, wants to help him out. I have my own reasons of defending this guy as well. I mean, him? Committing murder? That is a myth I will never believe!

"Woah!" I let out as my client suddenly approached me.

"..." The silence allowed me to inspect him. He was wearing a dark grey-hooded sweatshirt, black pants, brown sandals with a single strap, and a baby blue beanie on his head, an odd pin attached to it. Such casual clothing compared to my red vest and pants, white undershirt, teal tie, and dark leather shoes. "..."

"Good uh, morning!" I stutter. Oh great, way to make a client feel relieved. He didn't respond, however, and sported a smile that says, "I don't care."

"Morning. Everything is up to you today." That response startles me. He can speak! Oh man. First trial, I can handle. A few sweats every now and then, but that's beside the point. Meeting the client: One-way ticket to he hospital due to cardiac arrest. "..." That silence again. Am I supposed to say something? ...Uh, help? No, can't do that. I wish this was a video game. It would sure make this trial easier. "So," my client starts. "you are..."

"Fine! I-I'm fine!" Mr. Gavin's advice flew the window.

"Ah," he muses. "Mr. Fine, is it?" Wait, eh? "I do recall you having an strange name." And with that, we became best friends. Same about your name, buddy.

I have one lingering question in the back of my mind, present even before I took this case. I have to ask, "Um... Are you sure you're OK, I mean, with me?" Silence was my answer. C'mon, help me out here! As least say that you're okay with me defending you! Wait, he may have taken the question the wrong way. My eyes widened. Must rephrase quickly! "Mr. Gavin's defense skills are better than mine. Aren't you friends with him too? So why-"

I was cut off. "You'll find out soon enough." I was confused, and a little suspicious. What is he up to? "I believe in you. Just be more confident." Why am I the one being reassured me? The roles are reversed, but my confidence level just rose. Now, with a proper response.

"Um, I...I'm really sorry this happened to you. I mean...I mean, uh, I-"

My client cut me off again (thanks, really), telling me, "The trial is starting. Let's go."

I obediently answer, "Y-Yes, sir!" Great, another superior. I cleared my head and breathed deeply. Okay. I need to be calm and focus.

First trial, here come's Justice!


	2. Chapter 2

**April 20, 10:00 AM**

**District Court**

**Courtroom No. 2**

With the bang of his gavel, the judge announces, "The court is now in session."

The elderly prosecutor across from me states, "The prosecution is ready, Your Honor."

My turn. "Uh, the defense is, uh, fine! I mean ready, Your Honor." Well, that could have gone better. Mind going blank...I started to sweat. Okay, calm down Justice! Do NOT panic...The two spiked hairs on my head fell between my eyes. Ack, mission failed! Any continues?

"Your name," the judge addresses me. "Mr. Justice, is it?" I get it. My name is not normal. Stop pestering me world! "This is your first trial, is it not?"

"Y-Yes, Your Honor!" I trembled. "But I'm fine!" He looked at me strangely. "Really!"

"Are you certain? Your voice seem to be strained when you speak." I cough after that sentence. Crap, he's onto me. Well, I guess sacrifices must be made for improvement in my 'Chords of Steel.' "Ahem, Mr. Gavin?"

I faced my boss, who is standing beside me at the defense's bench. He waits a few seconds before answering. "...Yes, Your Honor?"

"I thought that you would be the one to take the defendant's case...," the judge tells him.

"I had every intention of doing so, that is correct," Mr. Gavin says. "But, as a defense attorney, I must concede to any wishes of the client. This one wished for the skills of my student, Mr. Justice," He looks at me when he says that last part. I smile proudly.

"Well, of course he wants justice." I sweat drop. "But to request for a greenhorn to take his case...'Why?' I must ask," My proud smile is instantly swiped off my face. I'm right here, Your Honor. "It is no exaggeration when I say that you are the best defense attorney around here." Ouch, right where it hurts. Okay, so Mr. Gavin may have more experience in court than I, BUT does HE have 'Chords of Steel?!'

...That's a bad comparison considering my position right now. Another banging of the gavel. "Let us start then," the judge states. "The defendant may now enter the courtroom." Shortly after, the defendant, my client, takes his place on the stand. I stare at him as the judge disappointedly shakes his head and says, "Shame that it had to come to this. I truly am sorry that our paths had to cross again like this." The judge hesitates at his next sentence. "It's been a long time, Mr. Wright."

My client. His name is **Phoenix Wright**. That name sends shivers down my spine and recalls memories I wish I could forget. Mr. Wright looked down, burying his eyes with his beanie. He says, "Let's let the past stay in the past, and let us focus on the present." He then looked up at the court, the smile on his face present. "My name? Phoenix Wright. My occupation? Piano player." I can only ask myself this as I stare at him. Mr. Wright... How could this have happened?

"I won't dive any further into the subject then," the judge assures Mr. Wright. He then faces the prosecutor in dark yellow. "Now, let's hear the prosecution explain the defense's charges. Mr. Payne?"

I watch as Winston Payne, the prosecutor, smirks and waves his hand at his bald forehead smugly. He taunts, "I can't believe that I witnessed you enter this courtroom as a rookie attorney." The sheen of his glasses covers his eyes, and I felt intimidated. "I shall see to it that you leave here in chains."

"Ah," Mr. Wright sighs, and I see a look of nostalgia printed on his face. "Winston Payne. Subtle as ever, I see."

The prosecutor stops his game and I listen to him speak. "Ahem. The crime took place at the Russian restaurant known as the Borscht Bowl Club. The defendant, Phoenix Wright, took the victim, a customer, and he hit him right on his head! Wham! Smack! It killed the victim cold!" We get it. No need for the sound effects.

"Hmm," the judge muses. "you say a customer at the restaurant, right? And about the defendant. You say he was..."

"Apparently, the pianist of the said restaurant," Payne informs.

The judge closes his eyes in thought. "Phoenix Wright... A pianist?" It's good to know that the judge is thinking like the rest of us.

Mr. Payne then takes out a green bottle and says, "This is the murder weapon of this case. It is a bottle of grape juice." Looks more like a wine bottle to me. Isn't this rated T? "Grape juice is the defendant's favorite beverage." Grape juice or alcohol, it doesn't matter, I guess.

"The court accepts the deadly bottle as evidence," the judge announces.

**Deadly Bottle added to the Court Record.**

"Justice, pay attention to this piece of information," Mr. Gavin commands. "Every piece of evidence is filed into the Court Record. Be sure to check it often."

"The Court Record...Okay! I know what that is!" I reply.

"Use the Court Record Button to examine all of your evidence," Mr. Gavin tells me. _Button? _With all due respect, sir, what are you talking about? I immediately shake the though out of my head. "I'm confident in your ability to handle this, Justice," he says with a bright smile. I nod.

Okay, the Court Record. Time for some hands-on action! I slam my bench, and a hologram materializes in front of us. The Court Record. I nod in triumph and instantly look over my evidence. In order is my Attorney's Badge, the Victim's Autopsy Report, the Crime Photo, and the newly added Deadly Bottle. After careful inspection, I close the hologram. "Getting back," the judge says. "the victim was a customer at this restaurant. Exactly, who is this, uh," His Honor looked at the victim's name. "'Shadi Smith' character?"

"We believe that the victim was a traveler, Your Honor," Winston Payne answers.

"...Traveler, you say?" the judge questions.

"We checked his passport. The information provided says that he had been out of the country for a number of years. He returned to this country rather recently, although we were unable to clearly identify his place of residence."

"And this 'Shadi Smith' was connected to the defendant in some way?"

I see the prosecutor is silent for a moment. "...We were unable to identify any connections as well, Your Honor. However, we believe that the two first encountered each other on the night of the murder at the Borscht Bow Club."

The judge spoke my mind. "If they have only first encountered each other on that night, then how come it lead to murder? Did the victim insult the defendant about his piano playing skills?" That theory isn't too far off I think as I glanced at Mr. Wright. I seriously doubt this man had any piano skills.

"That doesn't appear to be the case, Your Honor," Mr. Payne responds. Well, there goes that idea. "Nope, the motive has nothing to do with the defendant's skill, or, to be more specific, piano skill." The prosecutor then takes out a photo. "This photograph shall explain everything." We all took a gander at the black-and-white photo as it was enlarged on a hologram. It shows the dead victim in his chair with his head tilting back. There are also cards scattered across the table and the floor, with a bottle on top of the former. "As we can all see, a game of poker was being played at the scene of the crime."

"Stop right there!" the judge shouts. "I am certain that poker is gambling. That is a crime as well!" With that, the jury whispers among themselves and I begin to sweat. I try to compose myself as the prosecutor speaks again, but his words are drowned out as my mind goes blank and more of the salty liquid pours down my face.

...Don't take that the wrong way. "**OBJECTION!**" I face my boss after that famous cry. "I will not deny that my client was engaged in a poker game with the victim." Mr. Gavin intently stared at the prosecutor when he was about to say something. It shut Mr. Payne up. "However, it was all that it was: a game, in the purest sense. Competition between the two players, Your Honor."

"A...competition?" Mr. Payne asks.

"Exactly that," Mr. Gavin justifies. "A battle of wits, a war of rivals' passions... Only the cards, their backs wreathed in blue flame, know its final outcome."

Silence filled the courtroom. "Uh, what?" the judge confusedly asks. Good thing he's been my mentor for a while, or else I would not have understood that. Now, to question exactly what he said.

Mr. Payne spoke up though and informed us all. "The cards on the table, Your Honor, had blue as their back color. It seems that the defense was attempting to sound poetic to mystify the courtroom... and to impress the ladies."

"That shall be our first order of business here then," the judge directed. I see his eyes bulge after that statement. "I mean, investigate further into this deadly card game." I held back a giggle. I feel the blood run to my cheeks after I turned to Mr. Gavin's un-amused face. I turn to Mr. Wright, who is as silent as ever. The judge slammed his gavel again. "Defendant, you will testify about to this court about you and the victim's poker competition on the night of the murder."

Mr. Wright smiled. "...My pleasure. I clench my fists and prepare myself. My first trial starts now! Here comes Justice!

**Witness Testimony**

**- - The Competition - -**

_I am a pianist by trade... yet I can hardly play at all._

_My real job is to take on interested customers over at the poker table._

_The room where we play and the competition in there are the club's main attractions._

_The rules are simple: we play a game of poker using two decks of cards._

_That's all it is... a game. And our customers are happy._

I see the judge trying to take all this in, as am I. He must be in serious thought about the poker games held at the Borscht Bowl Club. How a poker player in disguise takes on determined players. How a restaurant is simply a disguise for people who are interested in challenging Phoenix Wright in a battle of cards. How the games are played. And how the result is two people just having a good time at the table. "A pianist who can't play piano?"

I fell off bench and desperately struggled to stand back on my feet. "Better than a defense attorney who can't defend," Somehow, that comment by Mr. Payne seems to be directed at me.

"Very well," His Honor said after a few moments of thinking. "The defense may begin the cross-examination."

"R-Right, Your Honor." Okay, time to see if my training paid off. Both of them. My first cross-examination! I can't mess this up! Mr. Gavin and Mr. Wright are both counting on me!

I don't do anything for a few seconds, enough time for Mr. Gavin to say, "Are you alright? You're sweating bullets."

"B-B-Bullets...?!" I duck under the bench. "Where?!"

"Figure of speech, Justice. Now get up," I do so. "Your voice again. I told before that it isn't good to get up so early to shout."

"It's for a good cause," I retort.

"Justice, I need you to focus on the cross-examination. You've watched me do this plenty of times when I defended. Although, it makes sense that you feel nervous since you've never done this before." I glare at him. This is not a good time to belittle me. "Do you need a refresher?"

I think over his question, putting away my pride to think rationally. It's better to be safe than sorry, especially since this is only Chapter Two. "A little reminder can't hurt," I tell him. No way I was going to follow the script.

"Listen carefully, Justice. Your job is to compare witness testimonies to the Court Record. Find inconsistencies, or contradictions, in the testimony with the evidence in the Court Record. Once you find a contradiction, that is the moment when you present the conflicting evidence from the Court Record!"

"But that testimony," I begin to loudly say to him. "I didn't find anything off about it."

"All the more reason for you to press the witness for more information." Mr. Gavin calmly responds.

"Press?"

"Even if the defendant is Phoenix Wright, you can't let that stop you. Demand more information! That is pressing." Okay, I get i- wait a minute. Aren't I defending Mr. Wright? "Well? Justice, can you do it?"

I nod confidently and thank him. "Okay, I think I can do this now!"

"I hope so for our sake. I don't want your first trial to end in the next five minutes. Just remember, find any inconsistencies, any lies in the testimony, and reveal them in court. That is cross-examination." Mr. Gavin turns to me with his eyes closed and a smile on his face. "Learn it. Know it. Do it." Geez, that saying sounds like it should be in school.

I faced the witness stand where Mr. Wright stands. 'Inconsistencies?' and 'Lies?' That just doesn't match Phoenix Wright at all. And if the court is to believe that, then I have to prove it.

"The defense may begin the cross-examination," the judge declares again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Cross-Examination**

**- - The Competition - -**

_I am a pianist by trade... yet I can hardly play at all._

**"HOLD IT!"**

Pressing time. "You can hardly play...?"

"Oh, I play every now and then. Only when customers REALLY demand me to do so," Mr. Wright explains. "One song later, they thank the world that I've finally stopped." Mr. Gavin, thank you. With this useful information, I know now to never go to the Borscht Bow Club. Or, at least not to request Mr. Wright to play a song. "The 'pianist' title," Mr. Wright continues. "is merely a mask, and one that I put on for the world at large.

"Then," the judge starts to ask. "why are you really working at the restaurant?"

_My real job is to take on interested customers over at the poker table._

**"HOLD IT!"**

"You get paid just to play poker?" I ask as I poke my forehead in thought.

"Yep," Mr. Wright confirms. "I am a professional, you know."

The prosecutor sneers. "I sense pride in that statement just now. Bah! I'm sorry, but an honest, hard-working member of society like me just find that hard to imagine." I glare at him, but Mr. Wright is just smiling.

"I agree," Mr. Wright... agrees. "You've always had a limited imagination, Winston Payne."

I close my mouth to prevent laughter. A penalty this early, THAT'S NO GOOD. "Wh-What?!" Mr. Payne asks shocked.

Alright, back to the cross examination. "I've been playing poker for seven years now," Mr. Wright says. "Every time in that little room. Also, I win. Every. Single. Game."

"Wait, Wha-?" I attempt to ask.

"Do you understand why the customers come to the Borscht Bowl Club now? 'Defeat the undefeated poker champion'..." Mr. Wright smirked. "It's quite a draw. Or, should I say, I'm quite a draw." First things first, don't cut me off, please!

Secondly, I ask doubtfully, "So, you've never lost a game? Not even one game!?"

"I'll repeat myself. Yep. I am a professional, you know." I look at him in disbelief. No losses for seven straight years in poker... Is it really possible!?

_The room where we play and the competition in there are the club's main attractions._

**"HOLD IT!"**

I bring up the Court Record and enlarge the Crime Photo, it being the same one Payne showed the court. "This room," I point at it. "is an attraction?"

"There is some history to that room, actually," Mr. Wright informs. "The Borscht Bow Club was once a gathering spot for black market people back in the day." B-Black market? Oh, come on Mr. Wright! This isn't making my job any easier. It's only my first trial too. He ignores my sweating figure and continues. "All in the past. In these times, the black market and other things like that are only found in the film business. Suffice to say that many deals were made under that table where we play poker." He points at the Crime Photo. "All right there in that same room."

His Honor spoke up. "A smoky room, gambling hoods. You know..." Wait, is he onto something? Please let it be a useful deduction that will help my case. "Just looking at this picture makes me feel 'bad'!" I facepalm.

"The bosses gather around that table, cutting deals, safe from the eyes of the law," Mr. Wright adds. Not exactly a good thing to add in a court of law. "As this happens, a goon keeps watch through a small window." He points to the tiny hole in the background at the top of the photo. That window does look like it would be good for keeping a look out, but I can't think of another use for it. Mr. Wright then looks up at the ceiling. "I can just picture it now." Stop it, you're killing me, Mr. Wright. "The room had a few other tricks to it as well, but regulars to the Borscht Bowl Club know all about it like the back of their hands. In any case, customers come to play poker in a room steeped in history." The smile returns. "Even with that background, me and all the other players just have good, clean fun." I'm sorry, why are you on trial again?

_The rules are simple: we play a game of poker using two decks of cards._

**"HOLD IT!"**

"Why two decks?" I question.

"With two decks, it makes it easier to tell when someone is cheating," Mr. Wright answers. "If you switch between two decks of cards, it makes it difficult to sneak in extra cards." I admit, that's pretty smart. The judge nods.

"I noticed something else," His Honor mentions. Wait, you did? Don't fail me again, Your Honor. "There are cards scattered on the table, and some are lying on the floor as well." He points at still-open Crime Photo as he says this. Well, I observed that too.

"Precisely," Mr. Gavin remarks. "Cards on the table, cards upon the floor... Each one forming a complete deck. A crime scene painted blue by a sad sweep of cards," He turns to me. "Quite poetic, wouldn't you agree?" I'm not the poetic type, Mr. Gavin.

"Incidentally, we used two types of cards at the table. One red deck, and the other blue," Mr. Wright reveals.

The judge "Hmm's" before replying with, "If I remember correctly, in poker, you make five-card 'hands,' right? I can see how it would be no problem to cheat."

Mr. Wright laughs. "Yes. A game of 'hands' is right." I raise an eyebrow.

_That's all it it... a game. And our customers are happy._

**"HOLD IT!"**

"So, you claim that you were not gambling?" I ask to be sure. Mr. Wright nods in confirmation. "There were no bets? No money?"

"The only thing at stake in our clash of cards... was pride itself," He states.

"Ho ho!" the judge laughs. "Well said, Mr. Wright. I've got a mind to play a hand of poker myself. The stakes: your fate!" AUGH! May we please return to the trial? The judge seems to agree as he banged his gavel. "The competition you spoke of earlier... I believe that the court understands the nature of this game sufficiently."

"Th-That's right!" I voice my opinion fast. "A simple game was all it was!" The judge shakes his head, filling me with dread.

"I don't believe that 'simple games' will end with one's murder, Mr. Justice," His Honor asserts. I grind my teeth and more sweat starts to form. He faces Mr. Wright. "Defendant. You were in the room the moment the murder took place, and yet you claim no connection to the crime?"

A dredge-filled second fills the courtroom before Mr. Wright smirks and says, "Odd." The judge naturally asks what's so odd. "I was told to testify about the competition that night. It's against the rules to ask me about the crime at this moment in time, Your Honor. Although, I expected to hear the defense's cry of 'Objection!' earlier." Wait, what!? Crap! My time to show off The Chords is delayed!

"Don't despair just yet, Justice," Mr. Gavin assures.

"S-Sir?" What's he doing?

"Wright," Gavin addresses. "There's something that I would like to make clear. Specifically, your connection to this case at hand, I'd appreciate it if I hear it from you, yourself."

Seconds of thinking later, Mr. Wright smiles. "Alright, why not?" he complies (how'd you do that, Mr. Gavin?)

One second of gavel banging later, the judge declares, "Very well. The defendant shall amend his testimony. Defendant." Just one little press, and I'm given a whole new testimony! I breathe in deeply. I'm prepared for Mr. Wright's next words.

_I plead silence regarding the murder. But I will say I never touched the murder weapon._

**"HOLD IT!"**

"S-Silence?" I question his tactic.

"The defendant has the right to refuse to testify," Mr. Wright explains. He then smiles fondly. "I haven't forgotten everything about the law, you know."

"But why?" I plea to him. "That clearly puts you at a disadvantage..."

"Isn't it your job to make a turnabout, and put the odds in our favor?" I sigh. Really, Mr. Wright? Doesn't this job have enough work as it is?

"Justice," Mr. Gavin gets my attention. "Didn't you detect something strange about that piece of testimony just now?" Well, if you're saying that there's something strange about that testimony, then there must be something strange about that testimony. I recall it nonetheless.

...

Huh, it does sound a bit off. I poke my forehead and think intensely. What is it? What's off? C'mon Justice! THINK! "Well," Mr. Gavin pipes in. "When you realize the inconsistency, I suggest you reinforce your point by presenting evidence. Evidence that conflicts with the testimony." It seems that Gavin found a contradiction in Mr. Wright's testimony. Now to ask, why is there one in the first place!? It's best if I check the Court Record. I bring it up and begin to think. I can't imagine Mr. Wright lying. It just doesn't fit. "It's a bit early to jump to conclusions, Justice." Don't read my mind, Mr. Gavin. "Take it slow, Justice. After all, this is your first cross-examination. Remember. Think carefully, and present evidence when the contradiction is found. It's also never a bad idea to press for more information."

"U-Understood, sir!" I nod. " I got this! I'm fine!" He looks at me sternly at the last part. I ignore him and look over the things listed in the Court Record.

Firstly, My Attorney's Badge. How long did I yearn for one of these? I put my palm over it, which is pinned to my vest, and feel it with my thumb. Just putting it one makes me feel... ready. I stop and scroll to the next piece of evidence, Smith's Autopsy Report. The folder is on the bench where I stand. I take out the main piece of paper and read over it.

Victim's Name: Shadi Smith (Age:?), Male

Estimated Time of Death: April 17, Between 1:45 AM and 2:15 AM.

Cause of Death: Cerebral hemorrhaging resulting from blunt trauma to forehead.

I place the paper back inside the folder, face the hologram, and scroll to the next item, the Crime Photo the prosecutor presented earlier. I enlarge it and examine it. The bottle of, ahem, 'grape juice' is still on the table. The empty chair is still beside the victim's. Cards are scattered on the table and floor. The lower section of the wall below the tiny window is cracked, allowing one to see the bricks. The cabinet behind the victim's chair isn't suspicious. The victim himself still has his head tilted back, a hat placed atop his head. Nothing's out of place. I minimize the photo and look at the last listed evidence, the Deadly Bottle. It's placed at the prosecutor's table, so I can't examine closely. I tap the picture of the item on the Court Record, displaying a description of it.

Type: Weapons

Submitted as evidence by Prosecutor Payne

Grape juice bottle used as the murder weapon. Bears the defendant Mr. Wright's prints.

Okay. Now that I've checked everything, let's hear the testimony again. I pay attention to it closely.

_I am a pianist by trade... yet I can hardly play at all._

_My real job is to take on interested customers over at the poker table._

_The room where we play and the competition in there are the club's main attractions._

_The rules are simple: we play a game of poker using two decks of cards._

_That's all it is... a game. And our customers are happy._

_I plead silence regarding the murder. But I will say I never touched the murder weapon._

I freeze. I look at the still-open Court Record displaying the Deadly Bottle. I let out small gasps as I read the description over and over again. I face Mr. Gavin, who just nods. His look silently says, "It's your job, Justice. You have to."

Sorry, Mr. Wright. I scream the word with regret. "**OBJECTION!"**


	4. Chapter 4

"So," I slowly start to ask Mr. Wright. "what you're saying is that you never touched murder weapon? The grape juice bottle, correct?"

"So I said," Mr. Wright answered. I swallowed and start to sweat, the spikes returning between eyes again after I made them straight the first time. I can't speak, and I'm keep asking myself...

Why did Mr. Wright lie? The judge eventually notices my silence. "Mr. Justice, is something the matter?" I hear the prosecutor laugh and see him flipping hair. He taunts me, but he and everyone else is drowned out as more questions linger in my mind. Did Phoenix Wright actually do it? What else was he lying about? He did plead silence. Is Mr. Wright hiding something? More questions that I don't have answers to enter my head.

I snap out of it in time to hear Payne say, "The defendant's fingerprints are all over the bottle!" The jury start to whisper, and I hear bad things being said out Mr. Wright. I straighten my hair out and quickly think of something to say.

"**OBJECTION!**" I shout at the top of my lungs, putting all my might into each syllable! Behold, this is the power of the 'Chords of Steel!'

"No need to shout, Mr. Justice! We can hear you perfectly!" His Honor fearfully yells back at me. I examine the courtroom. I find the judge cowering under his desk. Mr. Wright's eyes are widened and his mouth is agape. The prosecutor is sweating madly. The jury had many expressions and my boss is rubbing his ears. I can feel that my face is flushed red as I laugh while playing with my spikes. The courtroom slowly recovers. I smile in embarrassment the entire time.

"Excess yelling can hurt our ears... and our case, Justice," Mr. Gavin softly tells with friendly a smile and a killing glare. How does he do that? More importantly, what about my 'Chords of Steel...?' He's still looking at me. I think he's telling me to continue with the case.

I pound my bench dramatically. "A-Anyway!" Now, to come back with a counterargument. "What's so strange about fingerprints on a bottle in a restaurant?"

The judge nods in agreement (Ha! I did it!) and comments, "That is true. They wouldn't prove that the defendant-"

"**OBJECTION!**" Mr. Payne shrieks. Ow! My ears! "True, they wouldn't prove anything had they been normal fingerprints!"

"...Huh!?" I ask, partly for elaboration and partly because my ears hurt.

"However, the defendant's fingerprints were found upside-down on the murder weapon!" Payne explains.

"There were 'upside-down,' you say?" The judge questions. "What does that mean?"

"It means that the defendant was holding the bottle inverted! There is only one reason why he would do such a thing!" The prosecutor lets it sink in as he flips his hair. Stop that! "...Yes. To brain someone with the bottle!"

"Aaaaaaauuuuuggggghhhh!" I scream! The jury whispers _again_, and I break into a cold sweat _again_. I face Mr. Gavin, who's looking calm as ever. "S-Sir! I thinks things just took a turn for the worse!"

"I disagree, Justice." He says with his eyes closed and a smile. W-What? "As attorneys, the truth is the only thing that matters. Everything happens for a good reason. You'll see." I take in his words, feeling reassured. He always knows what to say. I made the right decision by working under him

"Defendant! Care to explain why your fingerprints on the bottle are upside-down to the court!?" His Honor forcefully demands. Mr. Wright, on the hand, is smirking.

"I stand by my plea of silence regarding the murder." He says at last. Oh man, why does my first trial have to be so stressful? "...For now." C'mon Mr. Wright! This is not helping out me out right now and I can't stand suspense!

"Hmm... You are not very cooperative, Mr. Wright." The judge remarks. My thoughts exactly. "This could hurt you case." Yes, please listen to His Honor and help me out here!

"I'm sure that he's not cooperating because there's something he wants to keep from us!" Stop making me feel that I can't trust Mr. Wright, Prosecutor Payne! "There must be some reason..."

"**OBJECTION!**" Mr. Gavin yells. "You seem to have forgotten one thing, Your Honor."

"That being what, Mr. Gavin?" The judge questions curiously.

"Who reported the murder to the police the night of the crime, three days ago?" My boss asks.

"Reported...?" The judge slowly says. Wait, I know this. The one who informed the police was-

"Well," Payne begins, with his back slouching. "it was the defendant, Phoenix Wright. But still, that..."

"S-Seriously!?" The judge asks in shock. Don't tell me that he didn't know. What has our legal system come to!?

"Erm, yes, well... um, uh." Prosecutor Payne stutters. "According to the case file, the murder was reported from near the scene, but a phone call from the defendant's cell phone."

Wait, what was that just now? "What do you mean 'near' the scene?" I inquire.

"Let us take a look at a diagram of the murder scene, shall we?" Mr. Payne directs, bringing up a hologram. It shows a diagram of the murder scene like Payne said. The diagram is split in two by a line, most likely a wall, with the right side taking up about three-quarters of the whole thing. On the right side are two rectangles in the top-right corner, probably the cabinets, and the poker table with two chairs on opposite sides and an extra chair on the left side of the table. Only one chair is occupied, that being the victim. On the line (wall) is the tiny window and an exit leading to the other side of the diagram, which only has stairs. Prosecutor Payne starts to explain. "The victim was murdered in a small room in a basement two floors down from ground level. Of course, cell phones can't get reception so far down. The defendant used the stairs in this hallway," Mr. Payne points to the left side of the diagram. "to go above ground. The call came from the first floor of the restaurant."

"I see," the judge nods. "This is the phone that made the call?" He picks up a piece of evidence on his bench, which is blue, old-fashioned cell phone. Ah, I guess as long as it calls, it's fine for Mr. Wright.

**Wright's Cell Phone added to the Court Record.**

"The defendant could have just merely fled the scene of the crime had he felt like it," Mr. Gavin starts to enforce our case. Why did Mr. Wright hire me again, not that I'm complaining. "However, he fulfilled his civic duty and reported the crime to the authorities. Yet, you claim that he is 'not cooperating'...?"

"Urk," goes Mr. Payne. Thank you, Mr. Gavin! I better not waste this opportunity!

"I believe that the prosecution has toyed with our client enough for the time being," Mr. Gavin announces.

"T-Toyed?" Payne repeats the word in question. "I assure you, no one is more serious about-"

"Didn't you say something earlier?" Gavin rhetorically asks. Back up, I object to that last part Mr. Payne! I am the most serious here! I'm just a little nervous and my client is... mysterious, is all. "About the defendant being in the room the very moment the crime occurred? How, I ask, can you possibly know this?"

"A great question!" The judge declares. He looks at Prosecutor Payne, and I can tell that His Honor's eyes are filled with intensity. Hah! Point for me! Or, is it Mr. Gavin? I sigh in confusion. "How indeed!"

"That question has a rather simple answer, Your Honor." Gavin states. "The prosecution has a decisive witness." He faces me as he says this. WHAT!? A-A-A w-w-w-witness!?

Payne laughs and compliments, "You're as skilled as they say you are." There. That confirms that someone else was in the basement room the night of the crime! Well, it makes sense since there were three chairs... But, back to the topic at hand, this person witnessed the crime.

"Justice," Gavin calls me. "Everything up until this point has all been a warm-up. It's time for the main event." He lets the words sink in. "Are you ready?" I shake my head yes.

The gavel bangs. "Very well," the judge speaks. "The prosecution may call upon its first witness to the stand." A while later, a blond woman gets up to the witness stand.

...And she is cowering under it. "The witness will state her name and profession." Payne states.

"H-Hold on just a moment!" The judge performs his own version of "**HOLD IT!**" "Why is the witness underneath the stand?"

"I believe that she is petrified by the defense attorney's demonic-looking horns." Prosecutor Payne insults. OH C'MON! One tube of hair gel, and people start treating you like The Devil. You all need to calm down!

"Do not be afraid!" The judge declares this, who is, for some reason, glaring at me. "Should any horns point in your direction this court shall cut them off." Wait, he's glaring at me.

"A-A-Are... you sure?" The witness fearfully asks. If he's glaring at me, that means...

"I swear it on my gavel! So please, come on out." His Honor assures. That means he will REALLY cut my hair off!

"**HOLD IT!** Isn't violence against hair a crime, Your Honor?" I plea.

"Well, if you are sure it is okay...," the woman says, and I hear her Russian accent. I don't care what happens in Soviet Russia, BACK OFF MY HAIR LADY! She gets up on her feet, and I see her articles of clothing are odd for court. She's wearing an apron over her full body poncho and on her head is one of those Russian hats. She's also wearing mittens and holding a pink pot of something on a pink plate. There is also a strange rhombus-shaped necklace around her neck.

Moving on, the prosecutor asks for the witness's name and occupation. She ignores it, takes out a camera, and takes a picture. Ah, the flash! My eyes! "W-W-Wait a second!" The judge yells. Agreed. I need some time to see again. "Will the prosecution explain the witness's... um... what's the word... paraphernalia?"

Winston Payne does so. "Yes. She is a professional, Your Honor. Those are just the tools of her trade." The judge asks what the tools of her trade are.

"My name... is Olga Orly," The witness states. Oh really? "I am employed as waitress in Borscht Bowl Club restaurant." I'm pretty sure you're missing an 'A' after the 'as' and before the 'waitress.'

"Then... why the camera?" His Honor questions.

"Of course, it is my pride to serve borscht that is naming restaurant," Orly answers. "However I also perform-" She looks to the side. "-How is it said? Other...service."

"I assume that one of these 'other service' is taking the pictures of customers?" The judge concludes. She takes His Honor's picture. Keep the camera away from me if I have to pay.

"Dah, dah," Orly...uh...'dah's.' "For instance...this one." She takes out a colored photograph. On it is Mr. Wright... talking with the victim, Shadi Smith! Gah! The sweat returns!

"T-That's the defendant!?" The judge recognizes. The prosecutors confirms this and says that it was on the night of the murder.

"Man in white hat," the witness addresses. "is one who has gone kaput."

"Yes," says the judge. "That is indeed the victim." Murmurs fill the courtroom once again. The judge silences them once again. My spiked hairs fall between my eyes once again. I refocus in time to hear the judge say something about casually accepting the photo.

**Olga's Photo casually added to the Court Record.**

"Now, witness. Where were you at the time of the murder?" The prosecutor asks.

"In Hydeout." She answers. Spellcheck, where are you? "We call room that." I inquire more about this 'Hydeout' nonetheless. "It is room where famous gangster 'Badgai' was arrested." I faintly recall his trial (he was found guilty) and think about how uncreative his name is. "Is room where murder happen."

"Whaaaaaaaaaat!?" I scream! Suddenly, a blinding flash appears.

"Your look of utter surprise... It is lovely," Ms. Orly tells me as she holds her camera. Oh man, I must have looked so stupid when I screamed, and she has a photo of it! "It will be posted later by courtroom door for you!" I relax and think things over as she talks some more. So, three people were inside that room when the murder occurred. Shadi Smith, the victim, Mr. Wright, the defendant, and Olga Orly, our witness. The victim didn't commit suicide, and it there is no way that Mr. Wright killed Mr. Smith. So the only logical explanation is...

I snap out of my thoughts when I hear that the testimony is about to be given. I listen intently.

**Witness Testimony**

**- - That Fateful Night - -**

_That night, customer asked me to deal cards for game._

_It was cold... Both players played with hats on, dah._

_The victim, he plays whole time with his hand on locket at his neck._

_Then, last hand is done! But, something terrible has happened, dah!_

_That man flew at victim, and is strangling him to death!_

I see the judge also take in the words. He asks, "Out of curiosity, who won the game?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Pain, er, Payne butts in. "The winner was the victim, Shadi Smith!"

"**OBJECTION!**" I yell before I slam my bench dramatically. "That's ridiculous!" I stay silent. Crap! I've got nothing to say. Quickly, think of something! Anything! "Um, because..." C'mon! C'mon! C'm-Aha! I got it! I point my finger to look cool. "Because Mr. Wright can't lose!"

"Ahem. Justice?" Mr. Gavin coughs. I face him. "It wouldn't hurt to think of a more... legitimate objection. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Mr. Wright hadn't lost in seven years! Don't you remember that?" I remind him.

"Take it from me, kid," the voice of the prosecutor tells me. "I didn't lose a case my first seven years as a prosecutor, either." Right. If I remember correctly, **his **mentor gave him his first loss. "Incidentally," Payne adds. "I have in my hand a piece of evidence." Mr. Payne brings up a hologram, revealing his evidence as a colored photograph. On it is a table with poker chips, poker cards, with a blue deck on the side, and a 'grape juice' bottle. "These are the poker chips as they lay the very moment of the crime." Payne directs us to the left side of the table with one hand of cards and chips. "This side here is the defendant's, Mr. Wright," He points to the other side. "while this one is that of the victim's, Mr. Smith."

"Chips?" The judge asks.

"Dah. I mean yes!" goes the prosecutor. I snicker. I stop when a small sudden pain appears on my arm. Thanks Mr. Gavin. "Please imagine that poker is war. Your hand is your army, and the poker chips are the spoils."

"I-I knew that! After all, when I was young, I had been known as," the judge pauses for dramatic effect. "the 'Poker Head of Courtroom No. 3'!" Doesn't he mean 'poker face?' I raise an eyebrow and turn to my boss. He simply shakes his head. I know what that means. It means that the judge is serious and that he is just making this up. "Hmm... Looking at this picture, it does seem that most of the chips are on the victim's side of the table." I look at the picture, and the victim does have a majority of the chips.

**Chips Photo added to the Court Record.**

"Alright then," His Honor faces me. "The defense may cross-examine the witness."

"Did you find any contradictions in the witness's testimony earlier?" Mr. Gavin asks me. I nod.

"Something did seem off, but I'm going to press everything before I point it out," I tell him my plan. "It's best to get as much information as possible."

"A wise decision," Mr. Gavin agrees.

**Cross Examination**

**- - That Fateful Night - -**

_That night, customer asked me to deal cards for game._

**HOLD IT!**

"Do you deal cards often?" I ask her.

"Dah, I am doing this," She answers. "If customer wishes it, I serve anything. Borscht, cards, more borscht," She grabs her camera again and snaps a photo. "It is my work."

"It's a relief to hear of a place that has not forgotten the meaning of service!" The judge says as he nods his head.

"Welcome you to Borscht Bow Club, where borscht is as warm as the waitresses!" She says as she, all of a sudden, takes out flyers and, somehow, passes them to me, Mr. Gavin, Mr. Payne, the judge, and the audience.

"Thanks for NOT handing out flyers during the cross-examination," I mutter.

"Don't be so negative, Justice," Gavin tells me. "The restaurant does have excellent service. I suggest you bring ear plugs, though. Wright's skill in piano playing is... lacking." Don't worry Mr. Gavin. I wasn't planning on going anyway.

_It was cold... Both players played with hats on, dah._

**HOLD IT!**

"It's April, though," I remind the witness. "How can it be cold?"

"At Borscht Bowl Club we have pride on authentic rustic Russian restaurant theme," She informs. "Outside it is city in Spring, but inside it is always as cold as Mother Russia!" Yeah, I don't do cold. "When it comes to hot borscht, cold is best seasoning, dah?" I'm not a chef, either.

_The victim, he plays whole time with his hand on locket at his neck._

**HOLD IT!**

"Locket?" I question.

"I think it was for good-luck, dah?" Ms. Orly says. "He gripped it many times when he played that night."

"Yes, he must have felt that that good-luck charm might carry him all the way to the moon and the stars." His Honor gives his thoughts. I raise any eyebrow. "Though, since it was small enough to be worn around his neck, I don't think it would have much lift..." I scratch my face as I look at the judge oddly. He finally faces me and, after a few seconds, he gets uncomfortable. "I-Is something wrong, Mr. Justice?"

"Yes. I want a clarification. We are talking about a 'locket,' right?" He stares at me strangely. I begin playing with my hair with a sheepish smile. "Uh, you know, a pendant... with, hum, a picture inside? As in, not a rocket?"

"Y-Yes, of course! I know exactly what we are talking about!" The judge says this really quick. "It was just that it was probably in the shape of a rocket. That is why the witness called it that."

"Uh, no, Your Honor. A locket's a locket, no matter the sha-"

"Justice," Gavin calls me. "Did you know that it's considered bad form to poke fun at the hard-to-hearing in our society?" Hard of understanding fits more, Mr. Gavin.

"So," The prosecutor gets back us all back on track. "What happened after?"

_Then, last hand is done! But, something terrible has happened, dah!_

**HOLD IT!**

"Something terrible!?" I (loudly) repeat. Not a second later did the witness scream in terror and cower under the stand.

"W-Will the defense refrain from needless shouting?" The judge tells me wide-eyed with a face filled with fear. I apologize in a low voice. Should I reconsider this vocal training thing? No, I can't let years of 'Chords of Steel' training go to waste. The prosecutor, sweating for some reason, urges Ms. Orly to go. The witness gets back up for the rest of her testimony.

_That man flew at victim, and is strangling him to death!_

**HOLD IT!**

"The defendant would never do anything like that!" I shout at her. There's no way that Mr. Wright would murder someone! The witness cowers again and the judge shakes his head.

"Hmm, I would be lying if I said that I've seen defense attorneys perform this tactic in the past," the judge says.

"If possible, Apollo Justice," Mr. Gavin speaks to me. Crap, he said my full name. "Please, refrain from causing me further embararassment." There's a hint of anger in there. I look away from Gavin and play with my spikes.

"However," His Honor begins. "Although I dislike what the defense did just now, I can't seem to understand why anyone would resort to murder because of a simple poker game."

"Maybe it's is because it's defendant who lost game?" Ms. Orly shares her two cents.

"Yes! An undefeated champion facing his first bitter defeat!" The prosecutor agrees. "It's the same with all people like him. Winners turning into sore losers. Oh, how the mighty fall!" I grind my teeth, clenching my fist as I do so.

"Well, Mr. Justice, you've gotten all the information you can get, some results unfortunate," Gavin tells me. "I believe that it is time to expose the contradictions in the witness's testimony."

"Leave it to me, sir! I'll do just that!" I assure with full confidence. I know where the contradiction is. I just have to reveal to the rest of the court. I recall my thoughts earlier. There were three people in the room at the time of the crime. I believe in Mr. Wright and the death was not suicidal. I smirk. Watch out, Ms. Orly.

_That night, customer asked me to deal cards for game._

_It was cold... Both players played with hats on, dah._

_The victim, he plays whole time with his hand on locket at his neck._

_Then, last hand is done! But, something terrible has happened, dah!_

_That man flew at victim, and is strangling him to death!_

**OBJECTION!**

Man, that feels good. Back on topic, I begin with, "Really, Ms. Orly? You say that the victim was 'strangled?' I find that strange."

"Dah," Ms. Orly... agrees? "Normal customers usually choke on borscht." I turn to Mr. Gavin.

"I'm not going to that restaurant now." Not that I wanted to in the first place.

"Shame. They have some delicious dishes too," My boss says with a smile. I sigh, reach for the autopsy report on beside, and remove its contents. I face the witness.

"Anyway, that is not the problem," I tell her. "The victim's autopsy report clearly states that he died from a blow to the head!" The woman gasps in realization. "Really now, Ms. Orly... Did you truly witness the crime!?" She shrieks, throwing the pot and the plate in the air. I watch as they all fall back down, with Ms. Orly catching the plate, the bowl falling onto the plate, the lobster originally inside the bowl returning to its place, and the lid dropping atop the bowl.

...

I feel a tap on my shoulder, and I face Mr. Gavin. "Close your mouth, Justice. Also, stop staring at the witness." I feel my face heating up. "You seemed to be zoning out, so I'll recap what happened." Mr. Gavin brings up the Court Record and enlarges the first Crime Photo. "The judge looked at this photo and don't think that the victim was hit." Mr. Gavin minimizes the photo, scrolls through the Court Record, and enlarges one that I haven't seen yet.

**Crime Photo 2 was added to the Court Record moments ago.**

"This is a photo of the victim without his hat on, and, as you can see, blood is running down to the back of his head from his forehead," Mr. Gavin informs. "The witness still claims that the defendant lunged at the victim's neck, however." He leaves it at that, and I smirk and cross my arms. I seems I caught Ms. Orly in her own lie now. "Seeing your expression, you seem enthusiastic, and I admire that, but really Justice. You should thinks things through once more."

I turn to him, confused. "Wh-What are you talking, sir?" I ask. "I exposed the contradiction in the witness's testimony!"

"That you did," my boss nods. "There's just another part of her testimony that... troubles me, is all." Another contradiction!?

"Alright then," the judge says, apparently hearing Mr. Gavin's last bit. "We shall continue this cross-examination. Mr. Justice, please proceed." I start to think about Ms. Orly's recollection of the events. I already proved that the victim didn't die from strangling, so I can stop beating that dead horse. I guess I should find the part that "troubles" Mr. Gavin.

"You know, Justice," Mr. Gavin smiles as he I turn to him. "There is such a thing as thinking aloud too much." I sweatdrop and play with my spikes, embarrassed. I look at the still-enlarged, second Crime Photo. Huh, there's nothing around his neck.

_That night, customer asked me to deal cards for game._

_It was cold... Both players played with hats on, dah._

_The victim, he plays whole time with his hand on locket at his neck._

**OBJECTION!**

I guess this was the peculiar part of her testimony that "troubles" Mr. Gavin. Now, what does mean? I close my eyes and poke my forehead in thought. C'mon, there has to be a logical explanation for this! I think/poke harder. "Mr. Justice!" I hear the judge call me. "Would you please enlighten the court of what it is you're thinking so intensely about?"

Oh, right. "Recall what the witness stated earlier, Your Honor. The victim played with 'his hand on locket at his neck,' is what she said."

"This better not be an objection about this witness's grammar!" The prosecutor remarks. I shake my head no and direct everyone's attention to the second Crime Photo.

"Does anyone see a locket around the victim's neck?" I (loudly) ask this question. "Because I don't!"

"Impressive, Justice," Gavin compliments. "Very well done. I knew that you were able to handle this."

"No you didn't," I murmur.

"Accept the compliment," he says really quickly. I let it go and ask him what exactly I proved earlier means.

"If we are to believe the witness's testimony as-is," the judge starts to tell us. "Then the locket, 'disappeared' following the victim's death."

I immediately say, "Lockets don't just 'disappear,' Your Honor!" Unless I'm missing something here.

"It rather quite simple when you think about it," Mr. Gavin comments. "If the locket is gone, then someone must have taken it off. Simple, see?"

"Wait, sir," I start to piece things together. "I-If it was just taken off.. then that means-"

"Exactly, Justice. The defendant did not strangle the victim at all. He was just taking off his locket!" A moment of silence falls. "That would easily explain it, no?" I see the judge let out an 'ah' while the prosecutor is sweating. The jury also the begins to whisper. It stops after a gavel bang.

"D-Defendant!" The judge calls to Mr. Wright. "What do you have to say to this?" His incredible, breathtaking response is... silence. We all stare at Mr. Wright for a short moment before we come to the conclusion that he's isn't going to say anything. "Say," the judge seems to realize something.

"Yes, Your Honor?" Mr. Wright responds (gasp!).

"I just noticed this now, but," the judge points at him. "You have something hanging around your neck, right?" Wait, what!? I turn to Mr. Wright, look at his neck, and see-!

"Oh, you mean this?" He takes off the item (it's gold, by the way) and holds it in his hand. "Yes, it's a locket... with a photograph inside." Oh no. I'm getting a bad feeling. "It's a photo... of my daughter."

Wait, "C-Come again!?" I question.

"Mr. Wright!" The judge looks at him at a loss for words. Me too, Your Honor. Me too. "Y-You have a d-d-daughter!?"

"We confirmed it at the time of the arrest," Mr. Payne states. "The picture in the locket in fact, the daughter of Mr. Wright." So, Mr. Wright has a locket, as well...? That just can't be a coincidence. There's gotta be something missing, but what?

"Welll then, if the results of this game of poker led to the murder, maybe we should listen a bit more about the outcome of the game?" The judge suggests.

"Further testimony really isn't necessary," Payne tells him. "It is clear that the defendant lost. Badly." No, I can't let it end here! I look to the witness. There must be something that she isn't saying. Something that only she knows. And I have to find out what it is if I want to acquit Mr. Wright.

"Ms. Orly!" The judge addresses. "You shall testify to the court about the game played between the victim and the defendant!" Alright, this is my opportunity!

"D-Dah..."


End file.
